


The Jewel Of Asgard

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Jötunn Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 11:04:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1080271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki, aka the Jewel of Asgard, goes missing; Thor battles to find him. Thor AU in which Loki is still Jotunn and has been adopted into the House of Odin as a war trophy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Jewel Of Asgard

“What happened in the past that was painful has a great deal to do with what we are today, but revisiting this painful past can contribute little or nothing to what we need to do now …”   
\- William Glasser

~~~

Prologue - Asgard 

As with all stories, this one has a beginning, although not one sentient being would be able to agree on quite when it began, why or how. For time immemorial, the Jötunn battled the Aesir and the Aesir battled right back. The Vanir helped when they could, fighting alongside their shining brothers in Asgard, yet even their help was not quite enough to keep the Jötun in Jotunheim for long. The Frost Giants won many battles, and the Aesir and the Vanir won many more, yet still the wars raged on back and forth without any real resolution. 

Until the time of Laufey, that is. 

Tired of centuries of constant battling, the Jotunn leader finally decided to approach the All-Father, to enforce a parley between the races. At first, his overtures of peace were met with suspicion; Odin had tried to parley with the Jötunn many a time in their long and shared history, yet the Jötunn had resolutely turned deaf ears upon such resolutions. Battle-scarred and weary after lengthy wars, Laufey had stood his ground in Asgard’s throne room and argued until Odin finally listened, and the millennia long war finally ground to a shuddering close. 

Laufey’s part of the parley was that if the Jötunn provided the Aesir with a war trophy, then the frost giants would be seen as valid and sincere in their overtures of peace. If the trophy was rejected, then it would be seen as another reason to continue with the war between races.

Odin saw reason and quietly accepted the trophy, and was gifted with a Prince from the House of Laufey itself; it soon became clear when Prince Loki arrived in the shining halls of Asgard that the baby was smaller than a normal Jotunn, quite clearly a runt and therefore less than desired in Jötunn society. Odin grew angry; that the Jötunn would be so callous as to reject one of their own so cruelly, just for a perceived imperfection, yet Frigga, ever the wise and goodly mother, had quelled his anger, and stepped up to rear the Jotunn as though he were her own babe. Her protective instincts for the squalling blue youngling won out, and peace was kept. The young Prince Loki was to become accepted as an adopted brother to Thor and third in line to the throne of Asgard after Thor himself. 

Loki grew up, fully aware of his role in the peace between Jotunheim and Asgard; as long as he remained in Asgard and was forever visible to these in Jotunheim and Asgard both, then peace would remain between the two realms. As such, he retained his natural blue, deeply scarred skin and ruby-red eyes, as a constant reminder of the peace tract between the Jötunn and Aesir. Because of this, he was known as the Jewel of Asgard to many Aesir and Vanir, both because of his worth to them, and because of his skin-tones and his glittering jewel-like eyes.

In time, Loki inevitably became bored of being looked upon as nothing more than a possession to most, yet not one Aesir ever realised nor took notice of his shift in mood; they were too used to Loki being alone and distant from them all. Even Thor, who knew his adopted brother’s innermost thoughts and desires better than anyone, didn’t notice. He was too busy with fighting other realms, drinking, eating, bedding wenches across Asgard and returning drunk and barely conscious to the rooms he’d shared with Loki since they both had been young princelings.

And so it continued, until one day, Loki simply disappeared, and the trouble for the Aesir really started. Laufey was due to pay a visit to Asgard a mere three days after Loki’s disappearance; that the Jewel of Asgard’s very presence would be immediately missed by King Laufey was not lost upon Odin. As such, he allowed Thor, with his chosen band of close companions, leave to bring the Jewel back home, to Asgard.

~~~

Niflheim

Thor strode through the wastes of Niflheim, brow lowered in a frown of concentration. All around him lay bleak landscapes covered in darkness and ice; he could feel the weight of a hundred gazes upon him, judging him and finding him wanting. He hated the feeling, even though, through being alive, he had no real reason to be in the realms of the dead; it almost was as if the not-so-dearly departed souls too cowardly and twisted to enter Valhalla resented Thor and his companions for the life that flowed still through their veins, and were jealous of that which they could no longer have. 

Considering his current task and purpose, he knew he had no other choice but to search the hills and valleys of the tormented dead, even though he’d been told repeatedly, by Sif and the Warriors Three, that it was a fool’s errand; Loki undoubtedly wouldn‘t be in Niflheim or Hel. Despite their protests otherwise, they still had been quick to join Thor in his quest, not wanting to miss out on the promise of adventure, of battle and potential glories and storytelling within the halls of Asgard upon their eventual return. 

Wails of tormented souls battered against Thor’s ears, growing ever more disconsolate and sad with every step that he took. him for his heroics, the force that ran through his veins. He hefted his hammer in one hand, fingers flexing around the familiar haft as his eyes, as blue as the summer sky and as angry as a summer storm, scanned the blasted horizons. He could see nothing but the ever rolling expanses of ice covered hills, slippery and shining and deceptively beautiful when the light caught it the right way. The light itself was red and black shot through with silver, shifting in the breezes that chilled across every scrap of exposed skin on Thor’s body. Despite himself, he shivered, cursing himself for his weakness, yet even Asgard’s greatest warrior felt the cold after the warm climes of home. 

Behind him came the sounds of those who’d accompanied him; he could hear the light tread of Sif making her way across the frozen landscape and the broken bones underfoot, and the heavier treads of Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg. Only Volstagg seemed to be the most vocal about their less than salubrious surroundings, which came as no surprise to Thor; Sif and Hogun were predictably stoic and silent. Fandral had started the journey through Niflheim jocular and warm, yet even his constant stream of jokes had withered beneath the dark brooding skies of the realm of the dead. 

“I don’t see why this quest is so important, Thor,” Volstagg said, and not for the first time.

Thor gritted his teeth against the impatience that threatened to build and to choke him from within. As though in sympathy, the thunder growled in the skies overhead; it seemed that even he had some influence to wield over the weather in an unfamiliar realm. Far off into the distance a soul screamed, whether in terror at the sudden noise or at its own shrieking torment Thor didn’t know; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either, given the nature of the place that surrounded him. Hela ruled here, not he, not Odin; none of the Aesir and attendant Vanir held sway here and the rules were not their own. 

Fandral skittered over a shining skull, bones worn smooth by the passage of time and the tramp of many feet over its ivory surface; he cursed, as his arms windmilled and flailed helplessly. He was saved from a potentially embarrassing fall by the quick thinking and even quicker hand of the Lady Sif and she steadied him, an amused smirk upon her pretty face at his embarrassment. His embarrassment was of a different kind; instead of being pitched upon his butt by a fall, he’d been saved by a shield-maiden. He still had the good grace to thank her, all the same. 

“Did you hear what I said, Thor?” Volstagg asked again, seemingly not distracted by Fandral’s near fall.

“I did,” Thor finally conceded, with a sigh.

He had said little about the quest to any of them, deeming explanations necessary when it was time. Even though he was not ready to divulge his innermost thoughts yet, even to his closest friends, he knew it would eventually be prudent to do so; he also knew that Volstagg would continue creating noise until Hela herself came swooping down, half-dead body curious and possibly furious about the living imposing on her realm. That outcome was still possible anyway, Thor knew; that Hela remained unaware of their presence was highly unlikely. 

“And?” Volstagg prompted when it seemed as though Thor was not yet ready to divulge information as yet. 

“We are on a search for Loki,” Thor said. “You may have noticed his absence in our own realm of late. I am worried about him.” 

“He has gone missing before now,” Fandral said, with a wry snort. “Why worry about him now? He’ll turn up, he always does, like a bad penny, or a bad meal.” 

“Talking of meals - “ Volstagg said, hopefully.

“It has been almost an hour since last you ate, Volstagg,” Sif said, with a disgusted roll of her eyes at her fellow warrior. “Surely you cannot be hungry, already?” 

“You know his capacity for food knows no bounds, my dearest,” Fandral said, melodramatically. 

Sif snarled at him, showing plenty of teeth; Fandral merely laughed at her. He knew that she hated endearments of any kind; the Goddess of War certainly lived up to her name at all times. 

“Enough,” Thor said, as he felt the air change around him. 

Already it seemed as though they would not have time enough to explore on their own; Hela was on her way, judging by the drop in temperature and the rapidity and sheer volume of the screams of tormented souls. He sighed a little when his companions finally fell silent, yet that made the noise all the more audible, crying growing exponentially until the tormented souls seemed to thrum in the very air, even though unseen mouths still remained supreme. 

Thor stood his ground, hand fisted around the handle of his trusty Mjolnir, feet firm against the broken ice ground. He felt rather than saw the Warriors Three and the Lady Sif closing ranks to each side of him, taking their positions and getting ready to fight if need be. The noise of tormented souls grew louder still, shriekingly so and they all had to cover their ears against the deafening noise in the end, even Thor.

Finally, the noise stopped, abrupt as it had suddenly started and Thor opened his eyes with difficulty, dropping his hands to his sides so that Mjolnir swung loose and free, ready to be brought into action if its wielder decreed it.

Thor saw Hela, for the first time; her body was a contradiction in terms. Even though he’d often heard tales of her, he’d never quite believed any of them to be true, despite the fact that he saw more fantastical things every day. 

She was tall, almost as tall as he was, and slender; one half of her was living, a healthy Aesir glow suffusing one half of her with kindness and vitality, while the other half of her was as dead as a corpse was dead, rotting and grey and filled with constant torment and pain. Around her feet, skeletal wolves played, and the remnants of tortured souls twined around her lower legs as though in constant supplication. Hela even petted one of their heads, corpse like fingers twining through dry and brittle hair until the strands seemed likely to snap and to give way beneath them. 

“What is the meaning of your presence in my realm? You should not be here,” Hela said, and her voice was more melodic and pleasant than Thor would have presumed from her appearance alone. 

“We are here looking for Loki,” Thor said, staring at her. 

“Loki is not here,” Hela said after a brief pause and it was only then that Thor even remembered Hela’s connection to Loki.

Hela had been to Loki and the giantess Angrboda; it had been Thor’s own father who had appointed Hela the goddess and ruler of Niflheim and Hel. 

“Loki has never been here,” Hela continued, distracting Thor from his own thoughts. “He cannot; the All-Father has forbidden it. Surely you must know this, Thor of Asgard?” 

That Hela knew who he was surprised Thor more than he could have admitted to aloud, but he tried not to show it. His was a will never to show his weaknesses before others; most mistook this for arrogance and bluster, yet he saw it as a conscious effort to be a great leader, to prove himself to his father that he could rule in his place when the time came. 

“I do know this, but these are not ordinary times,” Thor said, quietly. “Loki is not in Asgard and has not been for some time. We wish to know where he is; Laufey is due to visit us three days hence. Loki is important to all of us in all the nine realms. If he is not present in Asgard when his father calls, then war comes down upon us all. Do you wish that upon yourself?” 

“War worries me not, Thor of Asgard,” Hela replied, with a shrug. “I do not fight nor have I any wish to fight. War merely feeds me with the necessary souls that do not make it into your vaunted halls of Valhalla. I profit from war.” 

“She is right, Thor,” Sif said, quietly at Thor’s elbow, speaking for the first time since Hela had first appeared.

Thor gave her credit that Sif did not appear visibly frightened of Hela; that as Goddess of War she could feel some affinity for the other’s words was obvious. 

“We will not find Loki here,” Sif continued. “We must away and continue our search elsewhere.” 

Thor nodded, throat moving in a sudden dry swallow. He looked to Hela then and saw that he had no sympathy with her here. He might currently have her ear, but Hela would soon forget him and his own as soon as they left the blasted remains of Niflheim. Their living bodies were of no use and held little interest to Hela, after all. Never had Thor felt so insignificant and inconsequential before and he wondered then just how powerful Hela really was, whether he would even win against her if they fought. He hoped they would never try. 

“You will tell us if he comes to you?” he asked, yet he knew that she would not.

Loki was her father, and her loyalties would undoubtedly lie with him and never Thor and his kind. 

“I owe you no allegiance, Thor of Asgard,” Hela confirmed his suspicions. “I benefit from your wars and I will not immerse myself in Asgardian politics.” 

She said no more, levelling her strangely mismatched eyes upon Thor and ignoring the other four warriors around him. 

“We will not get any resolution here, Thor,” Fandral said, lowly, in Thor’s ear. “We would be wise to search elsewhere.” 

“Your acquaintance is right,” Hela said. “But I can tell you this; no living thing can survive in my realms. That is the only answer I will ever give you and you will have to satisfy yourself with that.” 

Thor nodded; even though Hela had said little, it was the content of her words that held sway with him. He knew that Hela was right; Loki might have sired her, but he was fully living and sentient. Hela was half dead and she could survive better in the realms that she’d been banished to eons ago. If Loki tried to spend too much time with her, then he would become one of the tormented dead, too and Thor doubted that Loki, the ever clever trickster Jotunn, would be so foolhardy as to risk that. 

“Thank you, Hela,” Thor said, inclining his head deferentially towards her.

Hela, surprisingly, returned the favour, before directing that same half bow to the others, starting with Sif. 

“You are brave, I shall grant you that,” Hela said. “Not many of the living would dare venture within my realms. But you must depart immediately, before it is too late. You do not belong here.” 

Thor nodded again and turned away, to make the long journey back to the Bifröst and onwards on the search for Loki. 

~~~ 

Svartalfheim

Thor gritted his teeth against the closeness of his surrounds; his bulky body could barely fit in the tunnels that seemed to stretch labyrinthine before him. His shoulders were hunched, back slightly stooped so that his golden haired head did not scrape against the stone ceiling. Behind him he could hear the sounds of the Warriors Three and Sif in his wake; Fandral and Volstagg were swearing, whilst Sif and Hogun were being typically stoic and silent. 

Thor led the way deeper into the lair of the dark elves; the passageways were a tight fit for all but Sif and Hogun; Volstagg and Thor, being the largest, struggled the most. Thor could feel the weight of tons of rocks bearing down upon his head, seemingly wanting to fall upon him and crush him if he even but set one foot wrong or scraped an elbow or a shoulder against the walls. While he knocked various points of his body against rough outcroppings, nothing of the sort happened; instead, he was rewarded by various cuts, scrapes and gouges about his person, instead of the expected and imagined rock-fall. 

“I am sure the elves knew what they were doing when they carved this place out of the mountains,” Sif said from where she stooped behind him, voice pitched low enough so that the others would not hear.

Thor merely grunted; surprised that Sif, outof all of them, seemed the closest attuned to his thoughts. Usually that honour was reserved for Loki alone, forever cognizant to Thor’s wants and desires, sometimes before even Thor himself knew that he had them. That alone had marked Loki out as different, if perhaps even his very appearance did not. Thor had often wondered whether Loki possessed mind-reading abilities; he certainly had aptitude with various magical skills, possibly another reason why he had been so rejected amongst the Jötunn. While they were not incapable of magic, none of them seemed to possess the same levels as Loki had; more than one Aesir had conjectured that perhaps it was because Loki was considered a runt amongst the Jötunn, that that had aided his magical abilities. It had often been said that only one runty sorcerer came every thousand or so years; Loki currently was that runt. No one had ever said what had happened to the previous outcasts; more than one Aesir suspected that the Jötunn had possibly conveniently killed them or sent them to war to be killed when they were unable to do it themselves. 

That Loki had gone missing now didn’t surprise Thor, Thor suddenly realized; perhaps Loki was worried that Laufey had come to claim him again, when Loki himself didn’t want to leave the Aesir behind. That Loki was so sentimental towards those that often mocked him for his very differences didn’t ring true for the little Jotunn, however; Thor decided that he would not know for certain either way until he found Loki himself. That he would find Loki was never in any doubt in his mind; he hoped however that he would do so before time ran out and Laufey arrived in Asgard. 

He sighed, and forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand and it was only then that he realized that he’d never once answered Sif when she’d tried to reassure him. That she hadn’t tried again spoke volumes; Sif must have assumed by his very silence that she’d overstepped her boundaries and presumed too much of him. He grunted again, finding that he didn’t particularly care under the current circumstances. He felt too cramped, too hot and too irritable to do anything other than try to find a way out of the seemingly endless maze of corridors that he’d led them all into. 

While it had been clear that Loki was nowhere to be found in the barren wastelands of Svartalfheim above ground, most Aesir and Vanir knew that that was not where the dark elves lived or even spent most of their time; instead, they were often below ground, mining and carving endless things and corridors out of stone. How they even found their way through their own passageways was anyone's guess, yet Thor knew that it wasn’t his place to make guesses. This, after all, was not his realm and he was glad of it. 

He stumbled forward when he came to a sudden widening of the passageway, ceiling arching overhead in a sudden sweeping curve above him. The walls widened out no longer making him feel hemmed in and crushed; instead, around him was the wide hallway of one of the inner sanctums of the elves themselves. He could feel the heat from a distant forge billowing up from one of the many corridors that dotted the circular room‘s wall, although which one was unclear to Thor. He stopped counting when the arched doorways reached fifty. 

The room itself was lit by guttering wall sconces and plenty of braziers liberally dotted about the floor; from Thor’s guess, it looked almost to be a feast hall. He wondered what the dark elves even ate, and hoped that it wouldn’t be unsuspecting wayfarers through their realm or imposing Aesir warriors. The flames sent skittering shadows over every surface, and everywhere, shadows leapt and danced as though the very night had filtered down from the outside to play within the realms of the dark elves. Thor closed his eyes for a moment, temporarily disorientated by the dancing light and when he opened them again, he was faced by one of the dark elves themselves. To describe the thing as incredibly ugly was still doing the elf a favour in Thor’s opinion; the thing was foul, its face an ugly mish-mash of light and dark, long hair pulled back into tight pony tail, ears pointed and teeth pointier still.

“You dare trouble us here, thunder god?” the elf asked, its voice a cultured, sibilant hiss in the darkness. 

The flames danced, sending its face into hellish flickerings of light and dark, shadows causing it to look most demonic and tortured. Even Hela herself had not been this ugly nor scary, Thor thought. 

“We came for a reason,” Thor said, loud voice echoing and seeming to fill the chamber with noise and thunder.

No one flinched; instead, Thor gripped his Mjolnir tighter in his hand, expecting attack at any minute. When none came, he did not relax his hold upon his hammer. Instead, he gave the elf a level look as the other began to speak.

“State your purpose here, Aesir,” he said. 

“I came here to look for that which is lost to us,” Thor said, indicating the Warriors ranged behind him.

“And what could you possibly want from us? What could be lost all the way down here?” the elf asked. 

“My brother, Loki,” Thor said. 

“If you cannot keep tabs on your own family, then more fool you, Aesir,” the elf cackled with a sneer. “We have no Aesir here.” 

“He is not Aesir. He is Jotunn and very dear to us,” Thor said, and a snort came from Volstagg behind him. “To me.” 

“Jotunn? What does a Jotunn have to do with the likes of you?” the elf asked, and there was genuine surprise in his voice.

“Everything,” Thor said. “We don’t have time to explain; time is running out and we need to find Loki.” 

“I can assure you we have no Jotunn here,” the elf said. “There is not the room.” 

“He is not a true Jotunn in the giant sense of the word,” Thor said. “He is but of my size.” 

“A runt,” the elf said, with a derisive snort. “We definitely do not have one of those here.”

“He is telling the truth, Thor,” Hogun said, his deep voice sounding comforting and sure in the darkness, when it seemed as though Thor was about to attack the elf for impertinence.

Hogun spoke little but Thor knew that the proud warrior always saw things when others did not. Thor nodded, and bowed to the elf courteously, albeit with a conscious and very obvious effort.

“If you say that you have not my brother, then I suppose you have not,” he said, with an effort. “But if I find that you have been lying - “

“You would not dare bring war against us, thunder god,” the elf said, with a laugh. “Not against the wishes of your own father.” 

Thor did not answer; he knew that the elf was right and the elf laughed wickedly, glee and triumph evident in its laughter and within its ugly face. 

“Go now, leave our realms and bother us no more. We have not your brother,” the elf said, before turning away, his boots clicking against the stone flooring as he walked away from them all.

“Wait,” Thor called after him but it was to no avail.

His words echoed against the walls but in vain; the elf had already vanished, slender body disappearing amongst the shifting shadows of the braziers. Sif’s hand was surprisingly light against the bare skin of Thor’s arm and her eyes were strangely sympathetic. A soft smile curved her lips and she jerked her chin towards the corridor through which they’d entered the cavernous room.

“We need to leave,” she said, voice drifting through the hissing spitting silence of disappointment that surrounded Thor. 

Thor nodded, but said no more; instead, he led the way silently back the way they had come, to continue their search for Loki elsewhere. 

~~~

Asgard 

Odin stood alone upon his dais, one-eyed gaze resting upon the proceedings below; flowers and small potted bushes were being arranged around the throne room, while metres of red carpet were being rolled out down the middle. On either side of the carpet, extra chairs were being placed out; all this was in honour of the visiting Jotunn delegation. He doubted whether any of the frost giants or even Laufey himself would care or even notice that they were putting on the extra show and all for them; despite suspected indifference from the Jötunn, it mattered to him. He wanted to present as good an image as he could of the Aesir, even though, as All-Father and the most powerful leader in the entire nine realms, he had nothing left to prove. Still, he had visitors to his realm and he was nothing if not an inveterate showman.

Briefly, his mind skittered to Laufey, and whether Thor would succeed in locating and bringing back Loki before the Jotunn king arrived. He knew that Loki’s absence would be tantamount to an invitation to war; Laufey, undoubtedly, would suspect Odin of deliberately hiding Loki, and not that Loki had taken it upon himself to disappear.

“Stupid, fool boy,” Odin said, so quietly as to not garner interest from the busy Aesir below. 

Still, one heard him; Frigga, being the closest to him, sighed and laid one hand upon his shoulder. She smiled gently at him, kindness radiating from every pore. Odin couldn’t help himself; he smiled back at her, unable to deny his wife even a smile. 

“Thor will find him, my love,” she said. “Trust in him; he’s deserving of that. “

“I know, but what if he doesn’t find him in time?” Odin asked, turning to face her a little more. 

“He will,” Frigga said, and her tone was a little more firm now. “He has the best help in Sif and his other friends. They are all more than capable of finding one little lost Jotunn.” 

Odin sighed again; even though Loki was small for a Jotunn, he was no longer the little boy that Frigga sometimes led others to believe. He knew that it was the motherly instinct in Frigga, to see her sons as the perpetual boys as they’d once been, instead of the grown warriors they now were. He smiled at her, deciding to give into her good wisdom as he almost always did when it came to matters of family.

“Come now, husband, I have some new blooms to show you in the garden. Tell me what you think of them and whether our esteemed guests would be as charmed by them as I am,” she said, gentle hand upon his forearm now and leading him away.

Odin sighed; he knew that his wife was deliberately trying to busy his mind with other matters. He spared one last glance at the industrious Aesir in the throne room, before he allowed Frigga to lead him away, filling his distracted mind with distractions of another kind entirely. 

~~~

Muspelheim 

Thor found himself hemmed in by flames on all sides, almost as soon as he and his travelling companions arrived in the fiery realm of Muspelheim. Fire demons, alerted to their presence almost as soon as they touched down, had attacked; they were hemmed in by the demons themselves as much as they were by the realm’s flames. 

Sif was alone, battling off to one side, while Fandral and Hogun had formed a whirling duo of death upon Thor‘s other side. Fandral was holding true to form and was laughing as he fought; that the jocular warrior was clearly enjoying himself was obvious. Volstagg was holding his own on the far reaches of their impromptu battlefield, yet Thor himself was tiring. Sweat poured from every pore on his body, as he threw his hammer again and again, calling upon the elements to try and batter the worst of the demonic tide back. 

He punched and kicked and fought as hard as he could, despite his tiredness; despite everything, he knew he could not win. When there came a brief lull in the fighting, Thor’s imperious voice rose above the crackling melee.

“Where is the Jewel of Asgard?” he yelled, deep voice resonating above the crackling fires and the heat of battle. 

“We know of no Jewel of Asgard,” the demon he was currently fighting hissed into his face, tongues of flames darting from its mouth as it spoke. “Though it sounds as though it would be of use to us. We like treasure.” 

Thor yelled out a war-cry, angered beyond belief that the one he counted as brother would be considered as nothing more than a possession. He fought harder, until finally he was beaten back by the ferocity of both the fight and the flames. He found himself back to back with Sif, whose indomitable strength and skill was beginning to fail her finally. 

“We must leave, Thor,” she shouted over the battle-sounds. “It is obvious that Loki is not here. He cannot survive here any longer than we could. If they would fight us so freely, then what could one warrior do against so many?” 

Even though Thor did not say anything, he knew that Sif was right in her assumptions; he knew that he had no choice but to open the Bifrost and travel away from Muspelheim before one, or all of them, were killed. He nodded, before he followed through with his own decision.

~~~

Midgard 

The chill air blew from the river below, fanning against Thor’s skin and blowing his hair from around his face. After the heat of Muspelheim and the fires that constantly burned there, the breezes of the Midgardian city of London were welcome. Thor growled suddenly, in frustration, balled fist coming to rest roughly against the stonework of the bridge wall before him, barking his skin and leaving welts in his flesh that he barely noticed. He sighed, broad shoulders moving restlessly beneath his armour, as Sif rested her slender forearms against the balustrade beside him. 

“You know, this place would almost be pretty under different circumstances,” she said, indicating the buildings around them.

Most of them were ancient; towering clock spires and impressive buildings interspersed with the more modern structures of a giant viewing wheel across the river. He struggled to remember the names of the buildings - Houses of Parliament, Big Ben, London Eye - yet none of them truly meant a thing to him. These buildings were not of his realm and did little to affect anything he did right then. Despite this, he had to concede to Sif’s observations; there was one thing that the Midgardians were good at and that was architecture, worthy, almost of the gods if applied in the right manner. 

“Aye, sister,” he said, finally, turning away from the river below and the barges that chugged across its brown surface. 

Nearby, traffic streamed over the bridge, bright red buses, black taxis and other modern vehicles that he had no name for spewing fumes over him. He frowned, and wondered why the Midgardians persisted in destroying their realm in this manner. 

He turned away, eyes scanning the crowds that surged past them; Volstagg was nearby, haggling for food from a consternated burger seller; it seemed the man was scared by Volstagg’s imposing size and dress, deeming him to be something called a Cos-player. The term meant little to Thor and obviously less to Volstagg, who was getting increasingly more vocal in his demands for food and mead. Fandral in the end had to employ the use of this pointed end of his sword to get the vendor to comply; Thor had to smile at his sudden over-eagerness to supply Volstagg with all the food that he wanted. 

“At least Volstagg is finally happy,” Sif said, as the mighty warrior's face was wreathed in suddenly happy smiles beneath his beard. 

“Nothing makes him happier faster than a full stomach,” Thor said, with a nod of agreement. “Somehow, I don’t think we shall find Loki here.” 

“We will,” Sif assured him. “It’s the only realm left.” 

Thor had to agree; they knew that Vanaheim and Asgard were out; most of the Vanir and Aesir knew Loki on sight and would think nothing of telling them where Loki was if he even tried hiding in one of their realms. Jotunheim was also out, considering that that was where Loki had originally started and it made little sense to go there if Laufey was visiting Asgard in a few days himself. 

Of the remaining six realms, five had proved useless and devoid of Loki, and Midgard truly was the only choice they had left. Thor shook his head and plunged wordlessly away from Sif, leaving her no choice but to continue after him, long legs easily matching his stride. Fandral shouted something undoubtedly obscene after them, before he, too, caught up with them, Volstagg and Hogun in tow. Volstagg was still determinedly eating and Thor allowed him that one luxury, knowing that if he continued to eat, then he would not be distracting them all with constant complaints. 

He strode through the streets, garnering more than his fair share of curious stares from the Midgardians, yet none dared to stop him and ask after his strange mode of dress. Sif garnered more than a few stares of her own, mostly from the male Midgardians but a few fierce glares from the Goddess of War soon scared even the most daring male away. 

The crowds grew thicker, and Midgardian bodies jostled against all five of them, yet each jostle and shove from impatient bodies did little against the much stronger Aesir and Vanir warriors. Thor’s gaze travelled over the crowds until a familiar figure cutting through them suddenly caught his eye. There was something about that fall of long black hair, the set of the shoulders and the familiar purposeful stride that struck a chord deep within Thor; he knew without a doubt that at last he’d found Loki. Thor noted the more Midgardian clothing that clung and hugged tightly to Loki’s body, the suit, the tailored coat that switched impressively around the Jotunn’s slender frame, the green and silver scarf that clung against Loki’s narrow chest. Yet there was something different about him, yet the distance was too great, the crowd too thick for Thor to determine what the problem was; Loki had been there and gone in but an instant.

“Did you see him, too?” Hogun asked, deep voice cutting through the general hubbub that swirled and broke around them. “Loki?” 

“Aye,” Thor said, as he surged forward, hoping to catch up with his long lost brother. 

He knew his acquaintances would follow him and follow him they did, without question. Thor kept his attentions upon the crowds around him, searching desperately for the missing Jewel of Asgard. He caught sight of the familiar dark haired head bobbing through the crowds again until he saw Loki duck into what looked like a Midgardian eatery. Thor scanned the glowing white and green sign curiously, sounding out the word - Starbucks - with a faintly confused sneer. The name meant nothing to him, yet it must have caught Loki’s ever expansive attention. Thor had little choice but to follow the Jotunn inside, regardless of whether he thought the establishment worthy of his presence or not. 

Loki himself was in the back of the eatery, yet it wasn’t only Loki’s clothing that was different. It was Loki’s face, and the skin that Thor could see upon his hands and slender wrists; it wasn’t blue as it usually was, edged with scars. Instead, it was Aesir pink while his normally pretty red glittering eyes were Aesir green. The haughty expression peculiar to Loki remained, however, yet there was a hint of warmth in his gaze when he looked to Thor, coupled with perhaps a sense of relief at having been found, Thor fancied. Thor found himself speechless at first, unused to seeing Loki as an Aesir would look, or perhaps as one of the many Midgardians would. While he liked Loki’s usual look despite the differences with his colouring, Loki, as he was now, was simply beautiful. 

“Well?” Loki asked, one dark eyebrow arched in either open invitation or mocking.

Sometimes, Thor found it hard to tell just what the Jewel of Asgard was thinking or even what he was about to do. 

“You have found me, have you not? Are you going to sit or are you going to clutter up the walkways of Starbucks with your looming presence?” Loki asked, with all the sarcasm that Thor was familiar with.

“Loki - “ Thor said, even as Fandral’s hand descended upon his shoulder and pushed him into the chair closest to Loki. 

Loki gave Fandral the closest of nods, jaw tight with repressed tension, yet he refused to take his gaze from Thor’s face. Tensions had always ran high between Loki and that of Thor’s friends; that Fandral, Volstagg and particularly Hogun had shown hostility towards him was obvious to all. Sif had been the only one that had shown mere indifference and tolerance, neither welcoming it nor discouraging it. 

“Loki, come home,” was all Thor could think of to say at first.

Behind him, he heard Hogun’s little huff of disgust as though the Aesir warrior disapproved of his lack of agility with words when it really mattered. It was because words mattered that Thor had difficulty with them, not knowing how best to put across his ideas when they meant so very much to him. Only Loki seemed good with words normally; not only was he called the Jewel of Asgard, but also Silvertongue, and Liesmith. As such, Loki was perhaps the best at determining just where Thor wanted to go with all the words that Thor himself couldn‘t say.. 

“You know that I will not,” Loki said, wearily, running one finger around the edge of his cup. “I cannot.” 

For one moment, his fingertip turned blue and scarred, brilliant hue there and gone in but an instant, before the new pink tones returned. 

“Why can you not? It is your home,” Thor said, roughly, reaching out to close his hand around Loki’s wrist.

It was as thin and as slender as ever; Thor felt himself wince despite himself. He was reminded once again just how fragile Loki seemed to him. Loki looked up at him from beneath dark eyelashes; a familiar sneering smirk curling his lips at Thor’s obvious hesitation.

“Again, with the hesitation, brother. I will not break, you know,” he said, the purr back in his voice again that Thor was so familiar with.

Thor remembered well the amount of sparring they’d engaged in together over the centuries. Loki had proved himself as strong and as good at fighting as Thor himself was, although his methods were very different. He utilised more magic where Thor could not, his slender body more agile against Thor’s heavier one; Thor used his greater strength, his sheer body mass and his natural affinity over the elements and thunder in a fight. His Mjolnir was as worthy an opponent as Loki’s sceptre was. 

“In fact, it is because of this, I wish to leave you all behind,” Loki said, breaking into Thor‘s memories.

“What? Why?” Sif asked, and there was genuine surprise in her voice.

Fandral was frowning, yet neither Volstagg nor Hogun looked as though they cared one whit for Loki’s words. Thor growled at them; only Volstagg dipped his head. 

“I am nothing to you, any of you,” Loki said. “I am just your possession, a war trophy to keep the peace, nothing more. You don‘t see me.” 

He thumped one hand against his chest, firmly and Thor winced at the sound it made. 

“Do you not remember the way that my Mother cared for you whilst you grew up? She treated you like her own son, as did my Father,” Thor said, shock and anger deepening and roughening his voice with pure emotion. “I treated you like a brother. None of us see you as the possession that you claim we do. We all want you. I want you.” 

“While that last may be true, your friends do not want me,” Loki said, slyly, giving the three warriors and the Goddess of War a sly and dangerously mocking look.

Only Sif maintained eye contact with Loki; that seemed to surprise Loki and his eyebrows rose.

“Such courage is only to be expected from the Goddess of War. I like her,” Loki said, with a sly grin directed at Thor. “But still, it is not enough to guarantee my return.”

“And our realm’s safety is not enough for you?” Thor asked, angrily. “To think of the things we have done for you, all that we have gone through to maintain the peace and this is how you repay us?” 

Loki sighed, and he looked to the window outside when a spattering of rain, responding to Thor’s mood broke against the window; a peal of thunder growled in the far off distance. London, on an already grey day, turned greyer still, and more threatening. The buildings seemed to loom ever more closely in. He watched the crowds run past outside, umbrellas hastily erected against the elements, hoods pulled up and newspapers slung carelessly over heads to be soaked through in minutes. 

“Loki, please come home,” Thor said, and his voice sounded so broken, so lost, even to his own ears that he felt Sif flinch beside him. 

That alone seemed to decide Loki, that Sif had shown emotion beneath her usually controlled facade. His green eyes danced up to hers and seemed to laugh for just an instant, before his gaze slid back to Thor again. 

“Make your friends beg for my return,” he said, his voice that dangerous purr again.

“I did not catch that,” Thor said, uncertain as to what he had just heard.

“You heard,” Loki said, that purr turning his voice feral and more dangerous. “Make them kneel, make them beg and treat me as an equal, instead of their possession.”

“I never - “Sif said, but Loki’s raised hand forestalled her.

“Do not lie, pretty one,” he said, words hissed between clenched teeth,. “All you see when you look upon me is the much vaunted Jewel of Asgard and never Loki Laufeyson.” 

Sif dropped her gaze at last and that seemed answer enough, yet still she knelt before Loki, hand raised as though in supplication.

“Sif, what are you doing?” Hogun said, and the disgust was clear in his voice.

“What we all should have done long ago,” Sif said, without raising her head. “Showing fealty. He’s right, you know. We owe him. Without him, we’d still be at war.”

“But you should not kneel to him,” Hogun said, resolutely refusing to kneel. 

“I said kneel,” Loki said, menace clear in his tone.

“I shall kneel, for you, brother,” Thor said, and he slid awkwardly from his seat to kneel before Loki. “As the first son of Odin it should have been my right to kneel first anyway.”

He glared at Sif, who merely shrugged at him.

“He was not asking for you to kneel, Thor,” she said.

Thor didn’t seem to hear her; instead, he placed one hand upon the shaft of Mjolnir and bent his head to Loki.

“Ah, what the hell, in for a penny and all that, eh?” Fandral said, as he joined Sif and Thor in kneeling.

Thor, from where he knelt, could feel myriads of Midgardian gazes resting upon them, whispers filling the gaps between the glares, yet he found that he didn’t care. All he cared about, all he wanted, was for Loki to return home. 

“Will we get food if I kneel?” Volstagg asked, eyes narrowing expectantly at Loki.

“You’ll get it,” Thor said, before Loki could. “Kneel.” 

Volstagg shrugged, before he said - “Three chickens, two turkeys, a hog and three barrels of mead.”

“You’ll get it. Now, kneel,” Thor said, again.

“Do as he says,” Loki said, clearly enjoying himself. “Unlike my brother, however, I shall not ask twice.” 

“I’ll just bet you won’t,” Volstagg muttered beneath his breath yet still he knelt. 

Hogun was the last to kneel, yet kneel he did when he realized he had little choice. Thor looked up and saw that Loki’s gaze lingered upon Hogun, as though in an attempt to commit Hogun’s transgression to memory. Loki had an exceptional memory, Thor knew, and he also knew that Hogun would likely pay at some point if Loki had anything to do with it. 

“Are you satisfied, now?” Volstagg said, finally.

Thor noticed a look that he didn’t recognize shift behind Loki’s gaze, something devious, dark, dangerous, almost evil and he shuddered, yet that look was gone in an instant as though it had never been. Loki’s gaze returned to that unfamiliar glittering green, hidden by a sudden sweep of dark lashes closing as a smug smirk curled at the Jotunn’s lips. 

“I am satisfied,” Loki conceded, with a prim little nod at Volstagg. 

“Does that mean we can go now? I believe you owe me some food,” Volstagg replied, as he climbed to his feet grumpily. 

“Yes, I do believe so,” Loki said, before he turned his gaze towards Thor. “Is my father in Asgard yet?”

“King Laufey? He is not, not yet,” Thor said, with a firm shake of his head. “But we should hurry. It will not be long before he is, and we need to return post-haste.”

“Very well,” Loki said, sipping the last of his coffee.

He stood finally, every movement as lithe and as graceful as Thor remembered. Suddenly, it seemed far longer than a mere few days since last he’d seen Loki. Once Loki was standing fully upon his own two feet, Thor pulled him into a rough hug, feeling the slight weight of the Jotunn against him, skin chill against his own despite the healthy pink glamour that had been wrapped around him by magic. Loki seemed almost as though he wished to pull away, yet he did not, Thor was gratified to note; instead, he felt the familiar weight of Loki’s hands against his back and the curve of Loki’s cheek against his own as the Jotunn smiled. 

“I think that you are the only one who truly accepts me, brother, and for that, I thank you,” Loki murmured into his ear, but didn’t give Thor a chance to reply.

Instead, he stepped away and strode imperiously past rows of staring Midgardians; typically he ignored them all in the only way that Loki could. Thor gestured for the others to follow him; Sif was the first to fall into step behind him and Hogun was the last. They said little on the journey back to the Bifrost site. Thor couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement course through him as the colours of a veritable rainbow flowed around him on the journey back to Asgard; he’d succeeded in his self appointed task to find Loki and he’d brought him back in time before King Laufey visited Odin‘s vaunted halls. 

~~~

Epilogue - Asgard

Loki stood on Odin’s left hand side, head slightly bowed as he surveyed the bodies filling the throne room. Everywhere he looked, he saw Jötunn mingling with Aesir and Vanir, giant, icy blue bodies standing out in stark contrast to pink. While Loki himself was dressed in Aesir battle armour, his skin was back to its natural scarred blue hue, red eyes glittering in the light as they moved. Odin was silent on his throne beside him, also surveying the crowd, yet Thor, on Odin’s right hand side was talking, in much the same way that Thor always did - constantly and loudly. 

While Thor’s constant need to be heard occasionally grated on Loki’s nerves, that evening he found that it bothered him little. It seemed strange to him how true friendship showed itself in times of need, and it had shown itself quite plainly in Thor; Loki knew that that could not be said of everyone.

Sif and Fandral may eventually warm to him, Loki suspected and perhaps even Volstagg would, but Hogun, he knew, never would. That Odin and Frigga had come to love him over the years and see him as so much more than a mere war trophy between two races was also obvious. That could not be said of the rest of the Aesir and Vanir and even the Jötunn. All they saw when they looked to him was a relic, a possession that had been passed from one race to another to ensure continued peace. If he was killed, or went missing, then the Jötunn would use that as an excuse for war; as such, he was nothing more than the Jewel of Asgard that most saw him as, something to be vaguely treasured and nothing more.

His eyes scanned the crowd once more as a slow smirk crossed his scarred features. Whilst most people could not see past what he represented, most would soon come to regret that. Most would soon see that there was a living, loving, thinking, feeling being beneath the Jotunn facade; that he was just as capable of hatred and anger as love and gentleness should have been obvious, yet most could not see that. 

Already, Loki could feel the seidr growing stronger within his body, coiling in his gut; where once it had been a powerful natural born talent, now it was fuelled by the need for revenge for being so cruelly overlooked by those who should have been his peers. Wantonly disappearing had not taught those he roomed with a lesson; in time, for that, they would pay. They would all pay.

First, it would start with minor pranks, things going missing in the night, or random appendages appearing where they should not have been. He quite fancied turning Fandral into a girl for the day or shearing Sif‘s beautiful hair from her head perhaps. From there, his tricks and spells and mischief would grow exponentially crueller, he knew and no one would be able to stop him until it was too late. 

Loki’s smile grew wider still as Laufey approached Odin’s dais. While it had made political sense to disappear for a time, even Loki could agree that it made much more sense to remain in the Asgardian courts. After all, revisiting the pain of his past did little to aid him after the fact; it was what he did with that pain in the present that mattered. He could achieve so much more mischief amongst those who’d so easily dismissed him from birth. 

After all, he could not be blamed for his actions, could he?


End file.
